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THOU art so fair
On the mountain there,
With thy hair of gold, whose locks unfold
Thy shoulders of marble, so pure and cold.
Blue is thine eye
Like the azure sky,
But the glance that flashes through the silken lashes
Like the tiger's fiery glance abashes.
Thy step has the grace
Of an angel's pace;
But thy foot is firm, and it crushes the germ
Of a budding love, like a venomous worm.
Thy skin is white
With a dazzling light,
But the streams that flow where the blue veins show
Have never with a passionate glow.
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